


10 times she heard about luck

by llgf



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Fluff, I Tried, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 20:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10421307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llgf/pseuds/llgf
Summary: prompts from tumblrJyn hears the word "luck" too often and she starts wondering how it feels.





	

**one**.

“Good luck” is not something she likes to say, it’s not a word that cross her mind when she opens her eyes. They’ve survived Scarif and it’s enough. It wasn’t luck, it came with blood, burnt flesh and painful memories. It wasn’t luck.

Jyn often thinks about it, dreams about it even, and surviving seems harder than dying.

She had found her luck though - in her new family. In Baze’s laugh, in Chirrut’s wisdom, in Bodhi’s sweetness, and Cassian’s embrace. That’s where her luck is. It helps her getting up in the cold morning of Hoth, to keep fighting.

She squeezes the stone around her neck, thinking of all the people who were out of luck.

* * *

 

Chirrut doesn’t call it “Luck” when they talk about Scarif.

(They don’t talk about it often, it makes Jyn’s eyes blurry, too much light and memories)

He talks about the Force, and it makes her pendant itch against her skin.

She hears Han talking about the Lady Luck and someone named Lando as he pats a hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

But she listens to the word, and takes it in. Jyn slowly realizes how lucky she is to have a family to hold onto.

“It’s not luck, it’s the Force,” Chirrut repeats.  

  


**two**.

“You’re lucky I am here,” Bodhi says, sitting down to face her, “I kept a piece of pie for you.”

He smiles, and Jyn thinks it’s warm and it feels good between the ice walls of Hoth.

“I don’t even want to know how they bake them, but you like it so much,” he shrugs. It brings a smile to Jyn’s face as she bites in the reddish pie.

  


**three**.

She hears the word more often than not. Han likes to remind her how lucky she is to be working with him and Chewie - who likes her, according to Solo.

She hears Bodhi use it, Baze likes to remind Chirrut that he’s lucky to have him, even Cassian mentions it once or twice, when he’s talking about a cantina, Gusha’s Luck, and how he met a reluctant informant, or when he talks about how he stole another imperial droid to get his friend back.

She hears “luck” everywhere and it makes her wonder everytime how it actually feels.

  


**four**.

“You’re just lucky,” Chirrut grumbles, while Cassian grabs all the chips with a smile.

“I thought there is no such thing as luck? The Force is not helping you?” he asks, with a faint smile.

(He smiles more and more everyday, and it seems to be contagious because she finds herself smiling too. Maybe it’s also because of Chirrut’s frown and Baze’s deep laugh.)

“You’re just not good at poker,” he adds, counting his chips. “Do you want to take your revenge?”

“Of course.” He taps his stick on the floor and curls his lips in a smile.

  


**five**.

“Good luck,” Jyn tells him. It feels wrong between her teeth, it’s as if she can still taste the sand of Scarif against her palate.

“It’s not a long mission.”

Yes, but it’s his first since they died. She died with him, and she’s afraid of letting him go, their embrace is too strong.

(There’s a nagging thought, that she exists in the Rebellion through him, and she’s afraid of disappearing while he’s gone.)

(Or maybe it’s she doesn’t have enough fingers to count the people she cared about who died.)

“Just - “ she begins, because Jyn’s not used to share, “stay safe, ok?”

Cassian doesn’t answer, he just grabs her hand, just like she did on this beach, squeezes and gives her a smile.

That’s where her luck is.

  


**six**.

“You’re lucky Cassian is not here,” Chirrut groans, while Jyn grabs all the chips, “you would have lost.”

“I let him win,” she answers, “and you’re just not good at poker.”

Baze pats her shoulder with a laugh, “Nicely done, little sister.”

  


**seven**.

Jyn waits, takes up physical space. She breathes, realizes how precious it is. She talks to Baze, to Chirrut, to Han or Leia. And she waits.

She was afraid at first, to be just a fragile statue among the running men, even more so when she learned about Cassian’s new mission.

But she realizes something, a warm feeling in her guts: she belongs.

She talks, she informs and takes notes. She’s part of it. She doesn’t fold her hands neatly on her lap and looks at the hologram without saying a word, no, she has her hands on the table and Jyn talks about fighting.

She even talks about Scarif. It still hurts and there’s this light, her teeth grinding, but she does. “You were lucky,” they say. And all she thinks about is aching limbs, blood, something pulling her away, her hand refusing to let go of Cassian’s.

Her memory changes - she was ready to die, she accepted it. She remembers Cassian’s look. She gave him a smile, and hugged him as if he were a rock in the midst of the tempest; he embraced back. She didn’t hold her breath. She closed her eyes, to concentrate on something solid, on the one who had been there, much more than others, on this silent weapon.

The golden wave swallowed them  –

She still sees the light, burning her eyelids, it hasn’t changed, but now, she thinks she always wanted to survive.

The Force, Lady Luck, destiny or even Lucksprites granted her wish.

  


**eight**.

“Your man is back,” Han says.

It’s not my man, she wants to answer, but it’s useless to talk with Han Solo. She keeps her eyes on her datapad and simply nods. But she’s smiling.

“Enjoy it,” he winks, “lucky you.” Han escapes with a laugh, Jyn wants to scoff, throw him off, but she breathes in, bites her lips.

Jyn leans against his door, waiting, her arms crossed, playing with the hem of her sleeves.

“All in one piece,” is the first thing he tells her, before she glides her arms around his neck. She has thousand words but none want to go through her lips.

“I missed you too,” Cassian says, “Jyn.”

She knows it’s not something he says often, so she brings him even closer - it reminds her of this beach, how close they were, two hearts beating in the same spot.

Jyn wants to say how lucky she is to have him, but she doesn’t have the words, she only hasthe grip.

  


**nine**.

He feels a movement. His reflexes would be to defend, and attack, but he knows what it is, or who it is, and Cassian grabs her wrist to bring her back to him, her back to his chest. Jyn laughs, “I have to go.”

“Good luck,” Cassian tells her, whispering in her ear, “for your first mission.”

He has a way to say those words, it’s like Bodhi’s smile, it’s full of meaning and hope. It’s not dust or sand, it’s something to come back to.

  


**ten**.

“You were lucky,” General Draven says when they come back. It makes Jyn scoff, Cassian doesn’t react, but mostly because he knows how to hide behind a façade - Jyn is trying to crack it, to break through, and she has some hints now. “You could have been killed.”

Cassian looks at her, as if this sentence was tattooed on their forehead, or a new nickname of theirs.

“We’re used to it.”

It makes her smile.


End file.
